


Green Grows The Holly

by Chiko (orphan_account)



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Orphanage, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malnutrition, No Underage Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Disability, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-26 06:34:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Chiko
Summary: "All my heart is his: it belongs to him; and with  him it shall remain, even if my fate would banish  the rest of me from his presence forever.It is an obscure and little thing : My heart.Made of snow and pierced by earthly suffering, suitable for the likes of me : Plain, deformed, unfinished and truly unlovable.But still, it is his to hold or toss away, and perhaps, I pray, he will regard it with a content smile that warms me in a cold night like this."





	Green Grows The Holly

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> English is not my first language - but I still hope you will like it. I am very curious to know what you think of my first work.  
> I am also searching for a Beta Reader ! Please leave a comment if you are interested.
> 
> Thank you !  
> C.

-August, 1870-

Like every other year, Mrs. Lencester's attempt at growing Lilies in the muddy soil of the leafy enclosure had failed.  
The old building that housed more than 700 inhabitants; children that fate hadn't granted the pleasure of a mother's embrace, was in dire need of restoration. Being a former prison hospital, the building's sight was hideous: Cold and massive concrete walls that held small and barred windows through which only a glimmer of light could shine.  
The foundation which was slightly broken down had shifted the building into a tilted position: Like an old, senile widower holding his back, the Orphanage stood crooked and grey with its crumbling facade. Patchy stains had spread over the exterior wall like a cancer and a moldy stench surrounded the house that caused even the dogs on the streets to avoid it. 

Perhaps some flowers decorating the small garden would have made it more inviting for a wealthy and benevolent individual to give a charitable donation -which explains the situation Alec found himself in:  
After the Lillies- Mrs.Lencester's favourite blossom - had (once again) withered before her eyes, it was (once again) Alec's task to rip the roots out of the infertile ground and fill a bag with what fertilizer he could save.  
Roses, Chrysanthemums, Tulips - they would grow out of the ground before turning a sickening shade of brown and rot.  
After discovering the saddening result, she had struck him across the face and cried out :"Ungrateful boy! How careless you have been! Didn't I tell you to water the ground twice a day? What have you done ?"

"Nothing Ma'am, I did as you said ! The-"

She hit him again.And again. And he endured.

"Hardened boy!" she exclaimed "nothing can correct you of your slatternly habits !"

"Now remove this mess or I will take away your hood and that ridicilous walking stick you keep clinging to !" She threatend.  
Afraid of having himself exposed in such a horrendous way he quickly obeyed and limped to the wooden cabin behind the building - fetching the tools he'd need. His wooden crutch aiding him. 

Mrs.Lencester may blame him but Alec knew better: It simply wasn't possible for anything beautiful to grow in a place as bitter and dark as this one. Hate and malevolence caused sickness and sorrow, how could a delicate flower blossom if Alec himself hadn't grown taller than a mere 5 feet 5 ? Kneeling in the dirt the boy thought of a book he had read about the ancient Romans, when last winter he had been confined to bed from illness. According to it, the Roman legions had a habit of punishing their enemies by pouring salt into their soil, leaving it barren for decades. Alec could hardly imagine something so cold and calculating!  
How many children must have starved as a consequence?  
It had seemed so real in his feverish dreams: Their cries becoming weaker by the day, their minds regressing into an earlier stage.  
He would then suddenly awake with tears in his eyes, crying and cursing at the injustices of this world.

'Dark thoughts come easy to you, don't they?' 

Shaking his head he turned towards a small window on his left, observing the commotion inside the house-kitchen: A few of the maids were scurrying around, preparing the meager dinner which consisted out of the sop bread from yesterday and some cheese.  
Alec sighed, the scanty supply of food was distressing and it was especially hard to make sure that every child got their fair share. Many a time he himself had been too slow when the precious morsel of brown bread was distributed at tea-time- he'd hobble towards the counters just to find them empty before retreating back to his small room, away from the staring eyes.  


After some time had passed and he could not spot anymore roots he lifted his eyes towards the sky's gloom. It was deepening by the minute and he studied the aspect of that summer evening. The wind was howling - announcing the winter's harsh weather that would soon plague the Orphanage.

The moon was nowhere to be seen.

Probably, if he had left a good home and kind parents, this would have been the hour when he would most strongly have regretted the separation and the blasting wind should then have saddened his mind. But as it was he derived from it only a strange longing for something he could not name- A warm touch, a knee to rest his head upon, a warm smile.

Slowly he lifted off the ground and after storing away the fertilizer he walked towards the old back door that lead to his small room. He was tired and Miss Broucher had informed him this morning that he was "not welcome to join any of today's meals" while eyeing him with a hard look.  
"We are expecting new arrivals- poor lambs! We wouldn't want to scare them so soon, would we?"

He had nodded. Her derogatory remark on his disfigured appearence had stung but the 16 years his existence counted had thickend his skin: He would not shed a single tear in front of her, no matter how hurtful her words. After this highly unpleasent encounter he had made his way towards the garden.

***

Arriving in his room he quietly undressed, remembering Miss Broucher's words.  
'She isn't wrong- no she is not. Didn't you yourself cover that mirror on the wall? Ashamed to see the face on your shoulders ?'

"Humans are to be measured by the soul!" he reasond."Now get these time-wasting thoughts about beauty out of your head. It is a good thing that you must fast- surely this will clear your mind of any vanity !" he scolded himself.

After washing his face and hands he quietly approached the bed that filled most of the private space he had been given.  
However, before laying himself to rest he slid his right hand under the thin mattress, revealing a toy that he kept hidden there. It was a doll that he had found a couple of years ago behind a bookshelf in the common room and although being quite broken it had instantly become very dear to him: Thrown away without a care and missing an eye it had reminded Alec of himself and he couldn't help but feel pity for it. Since then he had cradled it every night in his sleep and it gave him great comfort.

The boy knew, if John Bekritsky or, god forbid, Mrs. Lencester would find the little doll in his possession they would snatch it away from him: taking what little serenity he found through it.

'No,I won't let that happen.'  he thought, drifting off into much needed sleep. His dreams that night were filled with warm hands and soft touches


End file.
